Life in Mexico, by Frances Calderon de la Barca

Letter the Fortieth

Balloon — San Bartolo — Indian Women — A Beauty — Different Castes — Indians — Their Character, etc.
— Those of Noble Race — Ball at the French Minister’s-Abecilta — Danger of Walking Unattended — Shooting Party
— A Murder — Robbery of a Farmhouse — Discomfited Robber Captain — The “Zambos” — Letters and Visitors —
Country Life in Mexico.

23rd April.

We went to Mexico yesterday to see a balloon ascend from the Plaza de Toros, with an aëronaut and his daughter;
French people, I believe. The scene was really beautiful. The plaza was filled with well-dressed people, and all the
boxes crowded with ladies in full toilet. The president was there with his staff, and there were two bands of music.
The day was perfectly brilliant, and the streets crowded with handsome carriages, many of them open. The balloon swayed
itself up and down in the midst of the plaza like a living thing. Everything seemed ready for the ascent, when it was
announced that there was a hole in the balloon, and that, consequently, there could be no ascent that day. The people
bore their disappointment very good-humouredly, although it was conjectured that the air traveller had merely
proposed to himself to get their money, without the slightest intention of performing his voyage. One amusing
circumstance was, that some penny-a-line rhymer had written an account of it in verse beforehand, giving a most
grandiloquent account of the ascent of the balloon; and when we came out, the plaza was full of men selling these
verses, which the people were all buying and reading with roars of laughter.

The first of May being San Felipe, there will be a ball at the French Minister’s, to which we shall
probably go.

25th. — We have just returned from a ride to San Bartolo, an Indian village, four leagues from this, where we went
with a large party, some on horses, some on asses, others on mules, and one adventurous Jehu driving himself in a
four-wheeled carriage, with a pair of horses, over a road formed of ruts, stones, holes, and rocks, where, I will
venture to say, no carriage ever made its appearance before. Even the horses and asses got along with difficulty. In
spite of large straw hats and green veils, we were burnt the colour of red Indians. In the middle of the day we find
the sun intolerable at present, and, owing to the badness of the roads, we did not reach our destination until twelve
or one o’clock.

San Bartolo is a small, scattered Indian village, with a church, and is remarkable for a beautiful spring of water,
that jets cold and clear from the hard rock, as if Moses had but just smote it; for its superb tall pine-trees; for the
good looks and cleanness of the Indian women, who are for ever washing their long hair in the innumerable clear
streamlets formed by the spring; and for a view of Mexico, which is particularly favourable, owing to the thick, dark
screen of pine wood in the foreground, and the distinct view of the Laguna. Our dinner was carried by Indians, who had
trotted off with it at day-dawn; but who had taken the wrong road, and did not arrive till long after us. We dined
under the pine-trees by the side of the stream, but surrounded by crowds of gaping Indians, in too close vicinity to be
agreeable. Some of the young women were remarkably handsome, with the most beautiful teeth imaginable, laughing and
talking in their native tongue at a great rate, as they were washing in the brooks, some their hair and others their
clothes. The men looked as dirty as Indians generally do, and by no means on a level with these handsome damsels, who
are so much superior to the common race of Indians near Mexico, that one would think they had some intermixture of
Spanish blood in their veins. A sister of the woman who takes charge of the hacienda where we live, is one of the most
beautiful creatures I ever beheld. Large eyes, with long dark lashes, black hair nearly touching the ground, teeth like
snow, a dark but glowing complexion, a superb figure, with fine arms and hands, and small beautifully-formed feet. All
that is best of Indian and Spanish, “of dark and bright,” seems united in her. C——n says he has seen peasant women in
Andalusia in the same style of beauty, and quite as handsome. She is only nineteen. Such beauties as these startle one
every now and then in some remote village. She belongs, no doubt, to the mestizos — the descendants of whites and
Indians, the handsomest race in Mexico.

You ask if the castes in Mexico are distinct. There are seven supposed to be so. 1st, the Gachupinos, or Spaniards
born in Europe; 2nd, the Creoles, that is, whites of European family born in America; 3rd, the Mestizos; 4th, the
Mulattoes, descendants of whites and negroes, of whom there are few; 5th, the Zambos, descendants of negroes and
Indians, the ugliest race in Mexico; 6th, the Indians; and 7th, the remains of the African negroes.

Of pure Indians, Humboldt in his day calculated that there existed two millions and a half in New Spain (without
counting mestizos), and they are, probably, very little altered from the inferior Indians, as Cortes found them. The
principal families perished at the time of the conquest. The priests, sole depositaries of knowledge, were put to
death; the manuscripts and hieroglyphical paintings were burnt, and the remaining Indians fell into that state of
ignorance and degradation, from which they have never emerged. The rich Indian women preferred marrying their Spanish
conquerors to allying themselves with the degraded remnant of their countrymen; poor artisans, workmen, porters, etc.,
of whom Cortes speaks as filling the streets of the great cities, and as being considered little better than beasts of
burden; nearly naked in tierra caliente, dressed pretty much as they now are in the temperate parts of the
country; and everywhere with nearly the same manners, and habits, and customs, as they now have, but especially in the
more distant villages where they have little intercourse with the other classes. Even in their religion, Christianity,
as I observed before, seems to be formed of the ruins of their mythology; and all these festivities of the church,
these fireworks, and images, and gay dresses, harmonize completely with their childish love of show, and are, in fact,
their greatest source of delight. To buy these they save up all their money, and when you give a penny to an Indian
child, it trots off to buy crackers, as another would to buy candy. Attempts have been made by their curates to
persuade them to omit the celebration of certain days, and to expend less in the ceremonies of others, but the
indignation and discontent which such proposals have caused, have induced them to desist in their endeavours.

Under an appearance of stupid apathy they veil a great depth of cunning. They are grave and gentle and rather sad in
their appearance, when not under the influence of pulque; but when they return to their villages in the evening, and
have taken a drop of comfort, their white teeth light up their bronze countenances like lamps, and the girls especially
make the air ring with their laughter, which is very musical. I think it is Humboldt who says that their smile is
extremely gentle, and the expression of their eyes very severe. As they have no beard, if it were not for a little
moustache, which they frequently wear on the upper lip, there would be scarcely any difference between the faces of men
and women.

The Indians in and near the capital are, according to Humboldt, either the descendants of the former labourers, or
are remains of noble Indian families, who, disdaining to intermarry with their Spanish conquerors, preferred themselves
to till the ground which their vassals formerly cultivated for them. It is said that these Indians of noble race,
though to the vulgar eye undistinguishable from their fellows, are held in great respect by their inferior countrymen.
In Cholula, particularly, there are still caciques with long Indian names; also in Tlascala — and though barefoot and
ragged, they are said to possess great hidden wealth. But it is neither in or near the capital that we can see the
Indians to perfection in their original state. It is only by travelling through the provinces that we can accomplish
this; and should the lateness of the season oblige us to remain here any time after another Minister arrives, we may
probably take a longer journey in some different direction from tierra caliente, where we may see some tribes
of the indigenous Mexicans. Certainly no visible improvement has taken place in their condition since the independence.
They are quite as poor and quite as ignorant, and quite as degraded as they were in 1808, and if they do raise a little
grain of their own, they are so hardly taxed that the privilege is as nought.

May 2nd — We returned from Mexico this morning, having gone in to attend the ball given at the French Minister’s, on
the day of Louis Philippe. It was very pretty, and we stayed till it was very late. We met with such a cordial
reception from all our friends, whom we have not seen for a month, that we are tempted to believe ourselves as much
missed in Mexico as they say we are. The Señora L—— and the E——s were amongst the best dressed Mexican ladies last
night; the latter in white crape and diamonds, and the other in black blonde over rose-colour, also with diamonds. The
Señora A—— who went with us, looked very pretty in a white blonde dress, with a small black velvet turban rolled round
with large diamonds and pearls. There were a great number of small crimson velvet turbans, and an amazing number of
black blonde dresses. There were certainly some very pretty women. The corps diplomatique went in uniform.

7th — Abecilta, a favourite Spanish actor, died a few days ago, and, as C——n took several boxes on the night of a
play given for the benefit of his widow, we went in to the theatre on Saturday last. We are now looking out for another
house in Mexico, for when the rainy season begins we shall find this too far from the city for C——n, who is obliged to
be there constantly.

We ventured to take a walk alone yesterday morning through the lanes, down to San Angel and Coyohuacan, for which
piece of imprudence we were severely reprehended, and to-day it appears that two women had been robbed and ill-treated
on the road near here; so we are too ready to subscribe to the renewal of our sentence of imprisonment in the house and
orchard, when we have no gentlemen with us; but it must be confessed that it takes greatly from the charms of a country
life, not to be able to walk out fearlessly. . . .

The quietness and stillness of this place is incredible. There is actually not a sound in the air; not a sight but a
ragged Indian. The garden is in great beauty. The apricots are ripe and abundant. The roses are in full blow; and there
is a large pomegranate-tree at the gate of the orchard, which is one mass of ponçeau blossom. It is much warmer in the
middle of the day this summer than it was last.

We spent a pleasant day lately at a great hacienda a few leagues from this, belonging to a Spanish millionaire, on
occasion of a shooting party. We went there to breakfast, and afterwards set off on horseback, sitting sideways on
men’s saddles, to see the sport. It would have been very agreeable but for the heat. The sportsmen were not
very successful; — saw a flight of rose-coloured flamingoes, who sailed high over their heads, unhurt; killed some very
handsome birds called trigueros, with beautiful yellow plumage, and some ducks. The trigueros are considered a
delicacy. We rode with the administrador all round the estate, which is very productive and profitable. He told us that
they sell in Mexico, annually, fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of corn, and ten thousand dollars’ worth of milk,
sending in this produce in canoes, by the canal which passes this way. We dismounted from our horses in a green meadow
covered with daisies and buttercups, which, from association, I prefer to the tuberoses and pomegranate blossom, which
now adorn the gardens. The Señor ——— gave us an excellent dinner a l’Espagnole; after which I made an attempt
to fire at some birds which shook their tails, and flew away in the most contemptuous manner. . . .

The new Secretary of Legation, Señor T—— and the new attache, Señor G—— have just arrived in Mexico.

10th. — The Baron and Madame de ——— with their secretary, the Count de B—— came out yesterday morning unexpectedly
to breakfast, and spent the day with us.

13th. — We went out with C——n last evening, to take a walk; when a man rushed by us in a state of great agitation,
and on going further we met some workmen, who told us that an Indian labourer had stabbed a man in the next field, and
that he had died before a padre could be procured. We heard the cries of his wife and children, and A—— crossing the
ditch that bordered the field, went to see the man. He was a master-workman, or director, and had found fault with one
of the men for his idleness. High words ensued, and the labourer (probably the man who had passed us) drew his knife
and stabbed him. He was lying stone dead, with his hand half cut through in his efforts to defend himself. A—— asked an
administrador, who was standing near, what would be done to the guilty man. “Probably nothing,” said he, shrugging his
shoulders; “we have no judges to punish crime.” This rencounter, as you may believe, took away from us all inclination
to pursue our rambles.

There is a pretty farmhouse in the village, in which we took shelter the other day from a shower of rain. The
farmers are civil and respectful, a superior kind of people, with good manners rather above their station. The
daughters are good-looking, and the house clean and neat. One of the girls gave me an account of a nocturnal visit
which the robbers paid them last winter. She showed me the little room where she was alone and asleep, when her mother
and sister, who slept in the chamber adjoining, being wakened by the breaking in of their door, sprang out of the
window to make their escape, and she was left in the house alone. She jumped out of bed and bolted the door (her room
had no other egress), and there she held a parley with these night visitors, promising to unlock every drawer and
closet, if they would wait till she put on her clothes, and would do her no personal injury. The agreement was made,
and they kept their word. They cleared the house of every article it contained, leaving nothing but the blanket in
which the girl had wrapped herself. All their clothes, household utensils, money, everything was carried off with
astonishing precision; and having made her swear not to move till they had time to leave the village, they paid her no
further attention. The other women, who had given the alarm, found no one inclined to move in the middle of the night
against a party whose numbers their fears had probably magnified.

The administrador gave us an amusing account this evening of a visit which a band of no less than thirty robbers
once ventured to pay this strong and well-defended hacienda. He was living there alone, that is, without the family,
and had just barred and bolted everything for the night, but had not yet locked the outer gate, when looking out from
his window into the courtyard by moonlight, he saw a band of robbers ride up to the door. He instantly took his
measures, and seizing the great keys, ran up the little stair that leads to the azotea, locking the gate by which he
passed, and, calling to the captain by name (for the robbers were headed by a noted chieftain), requested to know what
he wanted at that hour of the night. The captain politely begged him to come downstairs and he would tell him; but the
agent, strong in the possession of his great keys, and well knowing the solidity of the iron-barred windows, continued
his parley in a high tone. The captain rode round, examined everything with a practised eye, and found that it would
require a regular siege to make good his entry. He threatened, entreated, observed that he would be content with a
small sum of money, but all in vain. There stood the sturdy administrador on the housetop, and there sat the captain on
his horse below, something like the fox and the crow; but the agent with the keys was wiser than the crow and her
cheese, for no cajoling would induce him to let them out of his grasp; and worse than all, shooting him would have done
them no good. At last the captain, finding himself entirely outwitted, took off his hat, politely wished the agent a
very good night, drew off his men and departed.

Another time, being also alone, he was attacked in broad daylight by two men who came under pretence of buying
pulque; but having time to get hold of a sword, he overpowered one, which frightened the other, upon which they both
began to laugh, and assured him it was mere experiment to see what he would do — a perfect jest, which he pretended to
believe, but advised them not to try it again, as it was too good a joke to be repeated. Señor ——— pointed out to us
the other day a well-known robber captain, who was riding on the high road with a friend. He had the worst-looking,
most vulgar, and most villainous face I ever saw; a low-lived and most unpoetic-looking ruffian; fat and sallow.

We saw a horribly ugly man to-day, and were told he was a lobo, the name given here to the Zambos;
who are the most frightful human beings that can be seen. La Güera Rodriguez told us that on an estate of hers, one
woman of that race was in the habit of attending church, and that she was so fearfully hideous, the priest had been
obliged to desire her to remain at home, because she distracted the attention of the congregation!

We spent yesterday at the house of the ——— Minister at San Angel, where he gave us and the ——— Minister and his
family a beautiful breakfast. How consistent everything looks in a good English house! so handsome without being gaudy
— the plate so well cleaned, the servants so well trained.

June 8th. — We were sitting under an apple-tree the other day, trying to tame the fiercest little deer I ever saw,
who was butting and kicking with all his might, when a large packet of letters was brought us, the reading of which
insured us an agreeable afternoon. We continue to lead a very quiet life here, occasionally taking a short ride in the
evening, and making acquaintance with the neighbouring villages, the prettiest of which is Tesapan, a most rural and
leafy spot, where there are fine fruit trees, plenty of water, and good-looking peasant-girls. Sometimes we go to San
Antonio to see the V——o family; occasionally to San Agustin, where they are preparing for the great fête. We are in
treaty for a house in Mexico, having now given up all idea of passing through Vera Cruz this summer. We are in hopes of
having that of the late Marquesa de San Roman, who died some time ago, but the delays that take place in any
transaction connected with a house in Mexico, and the difficulty of obtaining a decisive answer, are hard trials of
patience.

We generally have a number of visitors from Mexico on Sunday, and those who come in carriages may be considered as
real friends, for they decidedly risk their necks, not to mention their carriage-springs at a bad bit on the
road, which the owners, who are Indians, will not allow any one to mend for them, and will not mend themselves. When we
reach it, we are obliged regularly to get out of the carriage, go about a hundred yards on foot, and then remain in
much anxiety at the top of the hill, till we see whether or not the carriage arrives unbroken, which it rarely does. A
few dollars would make it perfectly safe.

Our chief visitors during the week are from the Carmelite convent of San Angel. The old padre guardian is
about eighty. Each convent has a prior, but the padre guardian exercises authority over all the convents of his order
as well as over his own.

There are many excellent houses and fine gardens in San Angel, and a number of families from Mexico are now there
for the season. Tacubaya and all the environs are beginning to be occupied, and Mexico looks warm and deserted. But
there are so few incidents in our quiet life among the magueys, that I shall write no more till we return from San
Agustin after the fête. If you wish to hear how we pass our time, you must know that we generally rise about six, and
go out into the orchard and stroll about, or sit down with a book in a pleasant arbour at the end of one of the walks,
which is surrounded by rose-bushes, and has a little stream of water running past it. Nor do we ever enter the orchard
unarmed with a long pole, for its entrance is guarded by a flock of angry geese, hissing like the many-headed Hydra
that watched over the golden apples of the Hesperides. At eight we breakfast, and by nine the sun is already powerful
enough to prevent us from leaving the house. We therefore sit down to read or write, and do occasionally take a game at
billiards. C——n generally rides to Mexico, but if not, goes up to the azotea with a book, or writes in his study until
four o’clock, when we dine.

After dinner we walk into the village, if we have any attendant esquire; if not, we go to the azotea and see the sun
set behind the volcanoes, or walk in the garden till it is dark, and then sit down in the front of the house, and look
at the lights in Mexico. Then we have tea or chocolate — and the candles are lighted — and the last Indian workman has
gone off to his village — and the house is barred in, and we sit down to read, or write or talk, or sometimes we play
billiards by lamp-light. And then indeed the silence and the solitude make us feel as if the world were completely shut
out. I never experienced such perfect stillness. Even the barking of a dog sounds like an event. Therefore, expect no
amusing letters from this place; for though we are very comfortable, there are no incidents to relate. The Indians come
in the morning to drink pulque, (which, by the way, I now think excellent, and shall find it very difficult to live
without!) a little child from the village brings us some bouquets of flowers, which the Indians have a pretty way of
arranging in a pineapple or pyramidal form; the Chinese cook, with his little slits of eyes, passes by with meat and
fruit which he has been buying at the market of San Angel; the prior saunters in to see how we are — a chance visitor
comes on horseback from Mexico, with a long sword by his side, as if he were going to fight the Saracens. And excepting
that a padre came last Sunday and said mass to us in the pretty little chapel of the hacienda, which saved us the
trouble of going down to the village, and, moreover, took chocolate with us afterwards, there has been nothing to vary
the usual routine of our country life.